


ire and rain

by TheSpaceCoyote



Series: Bad Things Happen Bingo [13]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Animal Attack, Crash Landing, Everyone Gets an Injury, Hurt/Comfort, Injured Hux, Injured Kylo Ren, M/M, Major Character Injury, Protective Armitage Hux, Stranded
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-12
Updated: 2019-03-12
Packaged: 2019-11-16 07:24:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,503
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18089960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheSpaceCoyote/pseuds/TheSpaceCoyote
Summary: Hux and Kylo crash on an untamed jungle moon, leaving the latter unconscious. When some of the local fauna take interest in them, it's up to Hux to make sure both he and Kylo make it back to the Order alive.





	ire and rain

**Author's Note:**

> Well it's time to let Kylo get a little injured, haha. Also I think giving Hux a chance to show off his combat skills is a fun idea. 
> 
> I go back and forth between hating this and thinking it's alright, so I just need to publish it and not dwell on it any longer.

Hux regains consciousness to the sound of rain.

At first he dismisses it as a dream, the only time his mind indulges in such memories, but then he shifts and a tight ache spikes through his torso, painfully pulling him into reality.

Hux flutters his eyelids, groaning as he palms his forehead and tries to sit up. Something’s wrapped tight around his chest, holding him in place, and it takes a moment for him to figure out that they’re security belts.

Recollection comes back to him slowly as his vision clarifies, revealing the small cockpit around him, bathed in the dim red of the emergency lights. _Right._

Hux had been traveling back from a brief overview of an outpost on Va’art. The ship is a small Chi-class shuttle, meant only for scouting and short-distance interplanetary travel. It held only two seats and a small cargo hold, with no room at all for additional troops. Hux hadn’t think they’d needed them, as the mission that’d been interrupted had been one of negligible danger that only required his and Ren’s presence. Considering his co-commander’s strength and Hux’s skill with his own personal arms, he’d reasoned that they didn’t need anything more.

Hux isn’t about to admit that he’d underestimated the danger, however—as no one, not even a sorcerer like Ren, could have predicted the sudden failure of the shuttle’s engines partway through the return voyage and the ensuing emergency descent through a thicket of clouds and into the earth below.

So much for Ren’s _expert_ piloting skills.

Smugness rises in Hux, before it’s abruptly replaced with fear.

Wait— _Ren_.

Hux jerks in his seat, eyes falling upon the man sitting besides him. Ren hangs forward, held to his seat only by the belts strapped over his shoulders and criss-crossed over his chest. His arms limply lie in his lap, and when Hux grabs him by the shoulder and tries to sit him up properly his head lolls back to reveal a thick trail of blood streaming down his temple from the edge of his matted hairline.

Hux swallows and brushes away the stiff locks stuck to Ren’s head, uncovering a nasty wound on his scalp. It looks deep and filled with welling blood, probably sustained during the chaos of the crash.

He feels for a pulse in Ren’s neck, his own hammering in his ears as Hux presses his fingers firmly beneath his co-commander’s jawline. He finds a soft throb, but Ren doesn’t stir when Hux lightly pats his cheek or shakes his shoulder.

“Ren,” Hux cries, voice hoarse from disuse. “Wake up. Answer me.”

When he stays silent Hux claws at the belt strapping him to the seat, nails smarting when he forces himself to stop and tend to his sudden, irrational panic. He must still be frazzled from the crash, body and mind knocked all out of sorts. Hux shuts his eyes tight and tries to breathe, to focus, to think of a plan rather than working himself into an encumbering frenzy.

Thankfully the control panel hadn’t been too badly damaged in the crash. At the very least, Hux can still access the emergency distress signal, so _hopefully_ that means help will arrive sooner rather than later. Hux busies himself with that, leaving Ren alone for the time being, before taking stock of the damage to the ship.

The transparisteel shield ensconcing the cockpit has been badly warped, now unable to complete close and seal the interior off. Hux supposes he should count his stars that the location they’ve crashed upon has a hospitable atmosphere, or else it would have already leached inside and suffocated them both.

He’s not sure he could get the shuttle off the ground, even if he knew how to pilot the damn thing. If Ren was awake, perhaps he could help—probably only after jibing at Hux’s lack of skill—but there’s nothing to be done about it now. He’d sent out the relief signal but beyond that there isn’t much more he can do but sit and wait and pray Ren doesn’t die of his injuries in the meantime.

Hux drags a hand over his chin, trying to take the deep breaths needed to slow his still racing heartbeat. It’s not so simple, as his chest and stomach smart from where the safety belts had dug into his skin, stressing him further. Surely he’ll be bruised when medical takes a look at him later on, when both he and Ren are safely back aboard the _Finalizer_. Hux isn’t exactly _happy_ with the idea, but considers it a small blessing he hadn’t sustained worse injuries. At least they weren’t _both_ unconscious, neither able to send out a proper distress signal.

The blood on Ren’s head is still flowing, so Hux grabs the end of his cape from where it drapes over the end of the seat and, with a bit of effort, manages to rip two long strips from it. He balls one up in his fist, pressing it to the side of Ren’s head. He flinches as Hux jostles the wound, but doesn’t wake even as the general clumsily ties the other strip around his head, securing the makeshift bandage in place.

It’s an utter hack-job, but it’s the best Hux can do until help arrives, so he checks Ren’s pulse one more time and settles back in his seat to inspect where they’ve crash-landed.

Outside he can’t see much, the only proper illumination that of Va’art teal-ish glow and the distant background of stars managing to perforate through gaps in the rainclouds. He can vaguely make out the uncultivated tops of vegetation, like they’ve landed in the midst of some large forest. One of the planet’s moons, perhaps? Hux vaguely remembers reading that the largest of them is mostly open wilderness.

Hux steals a look out of the corner of his eyes, but Ren’s position hasn’t changed. He still slumps back in his seat, blood on his face trailed all the way down to his chin. The makeshift bandage clapped to his skull already glistens red. Hux sighs tensely.

If Ren isn’t going to wake up any time soon then he hopes rescue arrives promptly. Hux feels he might be driven mad if he has to sit here any longer, listening to the patter of rain on the hull and the chatter of wildlife in the distance.

Just as Hux feels himself start to properly calm down, a _screech_ echoes from the outside of the shuttle. He jolts in his seat, spine painfully straight as his heart surges once more, hammering in anxiety. Just as the first cry fades away another joins it, and another, and another, until the air outside roils with a cacophony of noise.

Hux brushes his fingers against the cracked transparisteel, almost afraid of what he might find looking back at him from the outside in.

Through the veins of rain trickling against the shield he can see shapes prowling out of the thick of the forest, nothing distinct but ominous enough to make Hux shiver. Pinpricks of orange glow like distant torches, moving in pairs about the clearing as they slowly encroach upon the shuttle.

Hux swallows down his fear, brain grasping for a plan. He can’t tell what the creatures are at this distance nor how much a threat they pose to him, but he’s not going to be caught underestimating the situation and putting himself and Ren in further danger.

With the cockpit’s shield damaged there’s nothing much separating them from the creatures circling outside, should their intentions be nefarious. Hux reasons if they’re ravenous enough they can easily pry open the mangled transparisteel and get at them, as if they were a meal already vacuum sealed in convenient packaging.

But perhaps if Hux can scare them off—

He grabs his blaster from his belt and warms it up, stealing one last look at Ren’s unconscious body before he grips the edge of the crumpled shield and pries it open, the sound of wrenching metal cutting across the clearing.

Hux leans partially out of the cockpit, blaster raised. Through the worsening rain he can see the creatures prowling closer, orange eyes fixed upon him. He swallows down his fear, aims, and fires at the feet of the closest beast.

It yowls as the bright red blaster bolt sizzles into the ground, missing by a hair but Hux hopes it’s enough to scare them off.

“Stay back!” He shouts, summoning all his oratorial power as he prepares to fire another shot should his voice not intimidate them. The creature he missed skulks about the torched grass, already wet with the rain, its large furry tail flicking behind it. It seems the largest of the pack, leading by default of its size. Hux trains the blaster between its orange eyes, trying not to let the rain soaking through his coat distract him. He sees it tense, even at a distance, even through the dark mist creeping down around them.

Hux instantaneously tracks the creature as it leaps through the air towards him, sniping it in the chest with his blaster before it gets too close. It screeches as the bright red bolt buries into its chest and through the heart, killing it outright.

But any exhilaration Hux may feel at the perfect shot quickly bleeds out of him.

The creature’s corpse sails through the air and _slams_ against the side of the shuttle, sending shudders through the entire thing. Hux yelps and falters, losing grip on his blaster as he grabs at the mangled transparisteel, struggling to keep upright. Unfortunately the ragged edges slice at the fingers of his glove, blood slicking his grasp and causing him to fall forward, out of the shuttle and onto the muddy ground below.

Hux gasps at the impact as it rattles through his chest, temporarily knocking the wind from his lungs. Dazed, he struggles to push himself up on his knees, bracing one hand back against the hull of the shuttle. Through his swimming vision he can see the eyes of the creatures stalking closer, apparently undaunted by the death of their fellow, chattering reaching a clamorous volume.

This close, Hux can see what they are— _panthacs_ , creatures he knows only from the Empire’s old holorecords. Prolific breeders and vicious hunters, traits that make them especially disastrous to the local fauna of any planets they’ve been introduced to. As well as any humanoids that might cross them.

Hux’s hand curls around the phantom grip of his blaster, cursing himself for losing hold of it. If only he knew how to work Ren’s blasted saber—but he’d rather not press the wrong button or swing it wrong and risk the whole thing blowing up in his face. He can’t decide which is a worse fate—ripped apart by rapacious beasts on an uncharted moon, or burnt to ash by Ren’s unstable weapon.

Hux squints against the rain and the residual blurriness in his sight, pushing himself up to his full height. He pants, watching the panthacs, their grinning fangs and claws kneading long gouges into the wet earth. Looking almost triumphant, if mindless beasts could even have such emotions, now that they’ve finally stripped their prey of his last defenses.

Hux smirks to himself, raising his hand out to the side.

_Their mistake_. Even without his blaster, he’s not _that_ helpless.

He flicks the vibroblade out of his sleeve, flipping it once before gripping the handle tight. He levels the tip right at the closest of the panthacs, body tensing in anticipation. It tilts its head, orange eyes narrowing as its long tail stiffens behind it.

Hux’s combat skills concern mostly humanoid opponents, with focus on disarming and deflection. He doesn’t know how to apply that to defense against beasts like the ones stalking him now, but there’s only one way to learn— _quickly._

Mud and moss flies as the closest panthac leaps at Hux, giving him only a split second to react. He lunges forward on one leg and strikes out, weapon held sideways in his hand. He nearly loses his grip on the handle as the vibroblade sinks into the creature’s striped flank, slicing its flesh down the ribs. He lets his body follow the momentum of the strike, spinning around to face the panthac as it stumbles to the ground, bleeding heavily from the side next to the other member of its pack Hux has killed.

He spits a little rainwater out of his mouth, keeping an eye on the other panthacs in his periphery as he kicks the injured beast, crushing its damaged flank inwards and finishing it off.

Adrenaline aroused and tingling out from his core down to his fingertips, Hux turns towards the remnants of the pack. Hux anticipates more hesitancy now that they’re down two of their numbers but they only slink closer, cruel jaws open and slavering. He counts four, five of them through the slants of rain, hears their grating cries double in volume through the heavy patter of the rain. Aslightly crazed smile flitters over his lips, even as he meets certain death head on.

He wonders if this is what Ren feels like.

Before Hux can blink two of the creatures are sprinting towards him, rain flying off their bristling fur. Hux thrusts the vibroblade through the soft palate of the first as it tries to bite a chunk out of his arm, though he doesn’t move quick enough to avoid the fang that scrapes his wrist as its jaw shudders in its death throes. He falls back against the hull of the shuttle as he shoves the corpse aside, only for the creature behind it to launch itself at him.

Hux snaps his arm up and out, spearing the beast’s throat on the vibroblade—but not before its claws slash in a sharp diagonal, slicing four long lines across Hux’s chest.

The general collapses along with the dead panthac, back sliding against the hull as his legs give out beneath him. The vibroblade falls from his fingers to sink into the earth beneath him as he tips over on his side, one arm limply dropping over his torso.

Hux coughs, blood spattering over his lips. Even the heavy rain can’t wash it away as it drips down his chin, nor can it obscure the deep rends carving up his chest. The long claws of the panthac have torn right through his uniform, leaving it in red, raggedy strips that reveal the mangled flesh beneath. He presses his hand to his chest in a fruitless attempt to stem the tide, wincing at the awful pain.

Hux is used to bruises and cuts, broken bones and sprains. Deep, ruinous wounds that cut the body to the quick and spill blood like the endless outpouring of rain are new.

Wounds like those he’d found Ren with when he’d dragged him from the collapsing Starkiller Base, thedevastating fissure splitting his body from his cheek to his chest—though it’s covered now in reddened flesh and metallic film, worn like a mark of adversity that somehow suits him.

Of course, there won’t be time for Hux’s wounds to heal over into lines of pink upon his chest, lines Ren could trace with a smirk as he makes some remark on Hux’s bravery, on how the steely general had put himself in such danger to save the life of a man he’d always claimed to hate.

Darkness bleeds in the edges of Hux’s vision, making the world around him somehow colder and more terrifying than before. He can still make out the cruel orange eyes of the remaining panthacs as they advance upon him, captivated by the spill of his blood.

_Stars_ , he’s going to die here, isn’t he? Ripped apart and eaten by the whole pack of these things. And once they’ve finished desecrating him they’ll move onto Ren and kill him too, if he hasn’t died already. Unless rescue arrives while they’re gnawing on Hux he’ll be dragged from the cockpit and down onto the muddied earth, or simply eaten where he lies, strapped unconscious into his seat. The two greatest commanders in the Order, now nothing more than a bloody feast for mindless monsters.

Hux’s chest hitches as he tries to breathe in, only for sharp pain to cut through the effort as he hacks violently, feeling something solid dislodge in his throat.

_This has all been for naught_.

Through the pound of the rain Hux hears the circling clomp of the panthacs’ paws, their shrill calls as they no doubt size up how they’d best prefer to eat him. His eyelids flutter, cold spreading through his extremities. He can only hope that he’ll die of his wounds or suffocate in blood before they start tearing him apart.

Something weighty _thumps_ to the ground right in front of him, sinking deep into the mud. Hux pants heavily and raises his head, trying to meet his death with some last shred of dignity. He can’t see any glistening fangs or looming orange eyes but he still hears the yelps of the panthacs, though they’ve stopped growing louder and instead sound distressed.

The last thing Hux sees before he blacks out is a column of bright, deadly red kindling into life through the rain. Distantly he recognizes the sound of plasma igniting, the warlike growl that cuts above the screaming creatures—but then he knows no more.

* * *

“ _General_.”

Hux feels fingers brush over his forehead as he starts to wake, though they quickly retreat as soon as he musters his eyes open. He tries to sit up, only for the same fingers to return, firmer, on his shoulder to keep him down.

“You’re healing. Remain still.”

Hux glances in the direction of the voice, heart leaping and—sure enough, Ren sits at his side, so close he almost looms over him. _Alive_. Just like Hux is.

They’ve both made it through.

“Are…” Hux breathes, trying not to cringe at the crack of his own voice, “are we aboard the _Finalizer_?”

Ren nods. There’s a large bacta patch plasters above his brow, skin around it slightly yellowed from bruising. His hair is tied up off his face which makes him look strange, more exposed than is usual. The concern in his expression seems oddly naked, as if Ren hasn’t the strength or care to hold it back.

“Ah. That’s good. Very good.” Hux half closes his eyes, relieved to finally be back aboard his beloved vessel.

His chest twinges with each falling breath, like when the medics fixed him up they accidentally made his lungs too small. But it’s better, Hux has to admit, than bleeding out on the grass on some savage jungle moon.

“I assume you killed all the creatures?” Hux recalls Ren’s lightsaber blazing out from the dark of his memory. “Must’ve been…far easier for you.”

“Easier, because you depleted half their ranks.” Hux looks up at the compliment, a little surprised. Never before has Ren praised his methods, nor much else about him. But the man genuinely looks a bit pleased at Hux’s body count, as if the act of bloody, hands-on killing has brought a new kinship between them.

“I never knew. I always thought your combat experience was…purely theoretical.”

“It _is_ ,” Hux scoffs. “Well. Mostly.” He’d gotten into his fair share of deadly scraps at the Academy but—Ren doesn’t need to know about those right now.

“Not anymore, I suppose.” Ren rests his hand against Hux’s wrist, where a bacta patch wraps around the wound left by the panthac’s fang. “You could use further teaching.”

Hux snorts.

“I think I’ll leave the fighting to you next time.” He permits Ren to continue stroking his forearm, touch full of an odd reverence. “Not that it wasn’t affirming, to be the one rescuing _you_ , but I’d rather not have my chest rent open again.”

“A one-time miracle, then.”

“Ah. And you _would_ know about miracles, wouldn’t you Ren? You damn mystic.” Hux smiles, amused to have earned a fraction of his co-commander’s respect. He never thought Ren would regard him with anything but contempt and grudging cooperation. This is entirely new territory, yet Hux isn’t thinking to shun it. It feels good.

Ren stays by him well beyond the point where they stop speaking, absently stroking Hux’s injured arm as if to lull him back to sleep. It works surprisingly well and the general is a little surprised at how readily he accepts it.

Perhaps once Hux is fully healed, he and Ren will merely return to the way things were before. Nothing necessarily _has_ to change between them thanks to a little life-threatening experience—but Hux might like to command a little more of Ren’s regard, if it makes their relationship somewhat less tiresome. 

And if he’d like to continue touching Hux in this strangely tender, curious way of his—well, he might not complain about that either.

**Author's Note:**

> People wanted more recovery scenes so...I tried? I don't really know if this piece works overall.
> 
> Hit me up on [Tumblr](http://thethespacecoyote.tumblr.com) and [Twitter](https://twitter.com/heir_of_breath7/).


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